


A Chance Encounter

by Kaye_Fraser



Series: Truth and Lies [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate universe - Mafia, Assassin!Victor, Bratva (Mention of), Coffee, M/M, Sightseeing, Some Fluff, Triad - Freeform, Wax Museums, Yakuza (Mention of)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-12 15:22:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13550109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaye_Fraser/pseuds/Kaye_Fraser
Summary: Victor is a consummate professional.  He does his job, and he does it well.  But that doesn't mean he can't enjoy himself once in a while.  So when he encounters an adorable stranger while winding down from a recent 'engagement', he can't help but seize the opportunity to have a little fun.Having just finished school abroad, Yuuri had planned on one last jaunt of freedom before heading home to help with the family business.  What he hadn't planned on, however, was being invited to traipse around Hong Kong with a random – albeit, good looking – stranger.Written for Victuuri Week 2018 (Day 3 - Mafia AU)





	A Chance Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> Hello,
> 
> Just thought I'd take a moment and dabble in the Yuri!!! on Ice fandom really briefly. This can be read as a one-shot, but I have tentative plans to make it a series, and I will perhaps add on additional installments when I have time.
> 
> This was written for Day 3 of Victuuri Week 2018 (Theme: Mafia AU).
> 
> Hope you enjoy! Happy Reading!
> 
> Cheers,  
> K.
> 
> P.S. Just a warning: there is a very, very slight reference to dubious consent (which turns out to be not the case).

_A Chance Encounter_

_(***)_

_Hong Kong, China_

The one thing Victor had forgotten about Hong Kong in the spring was the humidity. Even as he stepped into the China Ferry Terminal with its large, enclosed, and very _air-conditioned_ space, he could feel it in the air, causing an unpleasant tackiness on his skin and an annoying frizz in his hair. Not that he was vain or anything like that, he noted to himself as he strode smoothly into the customs area segregated for non-Hong Kong residents. He just had – certain standards. The queue was thankfully short, and the uniformed officer he walked up to within minutes was fairly young … and cute. 

Shit. 

Okay, perhaps he was just a little vain. 

Still, he handed his passport over with his most charming smile, making sure to keep his expression as friendly and as pleasant as possible. The officer didn't look up at him initially; instead, he scrutinized the innocuous customs form Victor had filled in on the ferry ride over, and stamped the thing with a heavy thump. Only when the man passed the passport back did he look up and do a double-take. 

Victor widened his smile and gave the officer a nod of thanks. His appearance had a certain effect on people, he knew, even more so here in Asia with his dramatically different coloring, so he didn't see any harm in a little bit of silent flirting. It would've been even more suspicious had he entered the city with a less gregarious attitude and a more obscured appearance. 

Adjusting the small duffel bag on his shoulder, he continued on his way, easily moving from the terminal into the Harbour City Shopping Center. He'd only been here a couple of times before, but it was enough for him to remember where the important stops were. Passing the high end designer shops, and chattering crowds of tourists and locals, he made his way to one of the quieter washrooms tucked behind a set of escalators by the Louis Vuitton boutique on the second floor. 

The stall he entered was small, but it was enough space for him to remove his crisp, white button-up shirt, neatly pressed pants, and Italian leather shoes. He quickly rummaged through his bag to pull out and put on the simple cotton t-shirt, the pair of jeans, and the casual sneakers he'd tucked away in there earlier. Lastly, he slid on an American-team branded baseball cap to hide his easily recognizable hair before he stuffed all his discarded clothing back into the bag. He swapped out his passport, tossing the one he had just used onto the pile and grabbing the new one he would use tomorrow for his flight back to Russia. He knew he hadn't been followed from Macau, so he unstrapped the knife from his ankle, and tucked that into the duffel as well. Luckily, he'd disposed of his Glock before he'd boarded the ferry that morning, so it was one less item to worry about. After ensuring that he still had his wallet and phone on his person, he stepped out of the stall. He paused to stare briefly at his reflection in the mirror, a reflection that showed a carefree, twenty-something tourist taking in the sights and sounds of a bustling Asian metropolis, a reflection that looked nothing like the one that had walked in. It was exactly what he was going for. 

Satisfied, he exited the restroom, tucking a pair of aviator sunglasses into his pocket for later use. He joined the moving mass of shopping patrons with ease, and when he determined that there were no eyes on him – electronic or otherwise, he discreetly dropped his bag into a nearby garbage can. 

The shopping center was a large complex of interconnected buildings that catered to the cruise lines, ferries, and simple street traffic that used it as a port of call. Tens of thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of people traversed its shiny beige tiles each day, which allowed Victor to blend into the crowds without much effort. He would be the first to admit that he quite enjoyed the finer things in life, so he moved about slowly and took a few minutes to window shop at several of his preferred luxury stores. A few clerks smiled at him cheerfully, silently encouraging him to take his browsing a little further. He resisted quite well, knowing he still had one more task to do before he considered his current job complete – and he was nothing if not professional when it came down to it. 

He eventually made his way up to the top level and into a coffee shop that overlooked the ocean and the pier. The view was nice – nice enough with the clearing blue skies and bright sparkling waters to make one forget he was in the middle of a vibrant and constantly buzzing city – so he ordered a coffee and a small pastry to snack on while he took it all in. Fortunately, with the hour still being early, the lunch crowd hadn't swarmed the place yet, and he managed to get the last empty table in the shop. He couldn't have planned it any better had he tried. 

After sitting down with his food and drink, he took out his phone and saw the notification he'd been waiting for pop up on screen. Silently humming a peppy top forty pop song he'd heard recently, he logged into one of his Cayman bank accounts, and as expected, the full two million dollars had been deposited. Regardless of which side of the law they operated on, he did quite enjoy working with clients who paid on time, he mused thoughtfully. And the Bratva had yet to renege on any their deals. In all likelihood, they'd probably heard of the diplomat's death in a Macau casino earlier that morning, and had considered his part of the contract fulfilled. And now, it seemed they'd held up their side – payment in full. 

Victor appreciated their speed and efficiency. Out of habit, he quickly divvied up the payment and transferred parts of it to several other offshore accounts. 

"Umm – yes, just one please. Thank you." 

Victor didn't know why he picked out that one particular voice amongst the symphony of others – it might've been the politeness of the tone, or the fact that it was the only words he heard spoken in accented English amongst all the Cantonese – but he did. It caused him to glance up from his phone and over to the counter where a man was busily making hand gestures to get his point across to the barista. The whole tableau was slightly comical and adorable at the same time. 

Victor watched the man in earnest, amused by the sight. The stranger stood in profile to him, so he didn't get a good view of him besides the casual spring jacket and slim gray pants, but there was a grace in his bearing, in the way he moved, that drew and kept Victor's attention. But when the man turned, Victor froze. There were not many things in this world that could surprise Victor Nikiforov, not after everything he'd seen and done, and yet, something about the stranger – an openness, an innocence in the man's warm brown eyes – sent a delightful shiver down his spine. The corners of his lips involuntarily lifted up. 

After quickly paying, the man took a few steps with a plated sandwich and a cup in hand, only to stop and look nervously around at all the occupied tables of the small café. It occurred to Victor that the cute stranger was looking for somewhere to sit, and without another thought, he nudged the chair across from him with his foot. The metal legs scraped along the tiled floor, drawing the other man's gaze. 

"You're welcomed to share my table," Victor said in English, giving what he hoped was a friendly and inviting smile. He always did get a bit ... _hungry_ after a big job, and this stranger, with his shock of black hair and blue-framed glasses, looked absolutely delectable. 

The man eyed him with wariness at first, but then, slowly, he walked over and took the offered seat, placing his food on the table and then, the backpack he'd been carrying onto the ground. He returned the smile shakily and he nodded his head in acknowledgement. "Th-Thank you." 

"My pleasure!" Victor beamed, and the other man stared at him as if stunned. He had to remind himself to tone it down a bit, given what he'd seen of his new companion's reserved nature. "I'm Victor. Victor Nikiforov." He held out his hand across the table, which the other man stared at for a moment, confused. 

"Yuuri," he finally said before he reached over and shook the offered hand. "Pleased to meet you." 

Yuuri's hand was warm, soft, and his grip was gentle, as if he was still mustering up the confidence within himself to interact with a complete stranger. Victor kept his own grip firm, hoping to coax the man out of his proverbial shell. It seemed like such a tragedy to hide away all that beauty and potential he saw behind a curtain of self-doubt. "Yuuri," he repeated, the consonants and drawn-out vowels rolling off his tongue easily. He rather liked the way it sounded. "Japanese?" 

Yuuri nodded. "Yes." 

Victor sat back in his chair, relaxing his posture, and took a sip of his coffee. He watched the other man above the rim of his cup fidget a little before silently taking his own mug in hand. "Your English is really good," he offered lightly in the way of conversation. 

If Victor thought that Yuuri couldn't have gotten any cuter, the flush on the man's cheeks at the compliment proved him wrong. "Thank you," he said. "I've been going to school in the U.S. for the last four years so that helped me get better." 

Victor's eyebrows rose, partly in curiosity, but mainly because Yuuri had volunteered so much information without extra prompting. It was an encouraging sign. "The U.S.? That's far from home, isn't it?" 

Yuuri looked down at his sandwich, seemingly bashful. "It is, but I thought it might open more career opportunities for me." 

"Career opportunities? Like what? No, let me guess." Victor put his coffee down, held up a stilling hand, and eyed his companion with an over-exaggerated glare. "Hmm, an actor? A model? No, wait, a dancer! Yes, that's it – a dancer. You move too gracefully not to be a dancer," he teased. 

Yuuri laughed at the absurdity of his guesses, a light, musical sound that Victor could've listened to for hours. And had there been any doubt about his interest or attraction to the other man, it disappeared right then and there. He was utterly and completely charmed. 

"No, nothing like that," Yuuri said when he settled down. There was a certain light in his warm, honeyed eyes now that sparkled with humor from the sunlight filtering in from the shop's windows. 

Victor couldn't look away. "Then what?" he asked as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. 

"It doesn't matter anyways," Yuuri replied with a shrug. He fiddled with the handle of his cup, a bit of seriousness returning to his demeanor. Victor disliked the change, but he kept silent, waiting for his companion to explain. And seeing that Victor wasn't just going to accept that as a final answer, Yuuri added, "I have to help with the family business." 

"But it's not what you want." Victor spoke the words more as a statement of fact rather than a question. The sentiments were written clearly on Yuuri's face without him having to say it outright. 

"But it's what I have to do." Yuuri breathed out, his chest rising and falling visibly as the man looked out the windows and into the endless ocean expanse, expression now unreadable. "This trip is supposed to be my last big adventure before I head home." 

Victor angled his head slightly, and continued to watch Yuuri, unwavering and concerned. "Is that what this is then? A little bit of freedom before it's all gone?" 

Yuuri laughed quietly again, although this time, it seemed strained and forced. "It sounds horrible when you put it that way." He paused and took another sip of his coffee. "No, it's just a vacation," he noted thoughtfully. "My school friend, Phichit, is joining me tomorrow, and we're going to take a few days to enjoy the city before we both head home." 

For some reason, the resigned undertone in Yuuri's voice sat uneasily with Victor. True, they'd just met, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't physically attracted to the man, but there was something else – 

He gave himself a mental shake. He was heading back home in twenty-four hours himself, likely to never see his new companion again, so he would only allow himself this one indulgence, this one day to enjoy any aspect of Yuuri that the man was willing to share, and then, he'd leave – no entanglements, no ties, and most importantly, no regrets. It was how he'd always operated, and he didn't see why that needed to change now. 

"If that's the case," he drawled with a suggestive smile, "you have today free then?" 

"Y-Yes." Caution tainted Yuuri's answer, as if he was afraid of where this was leading. 

Victor gave him his most winning grin, the one that had won over the most reticent of partners – both romantic and platonic – in the past. "Well, you're in luck then, Yuuri! I fly out tomorrow, and I wouldn't mind some company until then, so would you be interested in getting a head start by exploring Hong Kong now?" 

Yuuri stared at him, that hesitation and nervousness from earlier returning to his face in full force. 

"I know," Victor continued, wanting to put the other man at ease. "I'm a complete stranger, and it's not the safest thing to do, running around a foreign country with me, but I promise I don't bite." He smiled lopsidedly and winked. "Well, not unless you ask." 

Yuuri made a muffled choking sound that came out more as a cough. His cheeks flushed redder than before, and his tongue darted out to moisten his lower lip nervously. 

Victor was transfixed by the motion, a familiar heat pooling in his groin. He wondered if Yuuri was even aware of what his actions – however unconscious – did to other people. "So, is that a 'yes' then?" he threw out, eyes not leave his companion's mouth. 

"What were you thinking?" 

It took a moment before Victor registered the question, and with a logic-defying amount of willpower, he managed to pull his thoughts away from what he'd like to do with the other man's lips. He blinked, and looked outside, reigning in his more carnal thoughts. It was still early, and they had just met. Dragging the man to a hotel room right now wouldn't have been the best course of action, at least not based on what Victor had seen of Yuuri. "Well, the pollution has burned off, and the sun's out," he managed to say levelly. "And I've heard that Victoria Peak gives some of the best views of the city. Would you be interested in an outdoor excursion?" 

Yuuri's expression instantly brightened at the suggestion, and Victor swore his heart hammered heavier than usual in his chest at the sight. "That sounds perfect!" 

Yuuri's mood was infectious, or at least, it felt that way to Victor, who couldn't help but echo the excitement back. "Then, my dear Yuuri," he stated with good-humored authority, "I do believe we have a plan." 

(***) 

He was dreaming. He had to be. Either that, or he'd somehow gotten hit by the endless stream of moving cars on the way to lunch, and this was some twisted version of purgatory. Because how else could he explain being invited to sightsee by the most dazzling and handsome stranger he'd ever laid eyes on? Yes, he, Katsuki Yuuri, was dead. That was the only other explanation. 

"So, what's your opinion on wax, Yuuri?" 

He furrowed his eyebrows, unsure if his translation skills were failing him. "Huh?" he managed as he looked at Victor in confusion. Behind him, beyond the tram's windows, the whole of Hong Kong Island was laid out like a photographer's dream, skyscrapers and gravity-defying architectural feats nestled like a forest of concrete and steel. They'd finished their coffee in companionable silence earlier that day, and when they'd gotten up to leave, Yuuri had fully expected Victor to bail out on his offer. After all, why would someone who looked like a celebrity – and Yuuri was convinced the guy was some type of eccentric Hollywood celebrity going incognito – want to hang out with plain, old him? 

But Victor hadn't. Instead, the man had become even more excited and had even suggested they take the Star Ferry instead of the MTR over to Hong Kong proper. At a loss, Yuuri had just nodded and followed along. And he was glad he had. Victor seemed to know the city better than him, easily leading them to the antiquated boats and taking the scenery in stride while Yuuri became fascinated by every single thing they saw. By the time they'd boarded the old-fashioned funicular that would take them up to Victoria Peak, he had been on the verge of sensory overload. 

"Wax," Victor repeated. "Do you like wax?" 

A bell clanged loudly ahead of where the tram had been stopped for the last few minutes, giving the all clear to proceed. Yuuri waited for the noise to die down before answering. "Uh, I guess I'm neutral?" he said slowly, unsure if he'd even interpreted the question properly. 

Victor grinned, and re-folded the brochure he'd picked up when they'd first boarded the funicular. "Good, there's a Madame Tussauds right when we get off the tram. Did you want to take a look before we hike up to the peak?" 

Honestly, Yuuri would've agreed to go anywhere the other man suggested, not because he trusted a stranger he met just three hours ago – that would just be stupid and ill-advised – but because, no matter how much research he did on the city's tourist attractions, he still managed to panic a little when faced with the possibility of navigating to them on his own. "Sure," he replied as the tram lurched forward up the sharpest part of the incline. 

Yuuri shifted a bit on the wooden seat to get a better view of them entering the tunnel on the side of the mountain. For a few seconds, everything darkened, creating simple shadows and shapes of their immediate world, before the artificial lights of the upper terminus greeted them. Once the tram came to a complete stop, they all filed out of the wood-paneled vehicle like docile sheep. 

"This way," Victor said cheerily as he took a quick glance at the map on his brochure. 

How the man managed to navigate from such a rudimentary map, and without constantly looking at it, eluded Yuuri. Nevertheless, for reasons he couldn't explain, he felt safe with Victor, had felt so since he'd shaken his companion's hand back at the coffee shop, so he walked along beside him without question. 

They took several turns – left or right or maybe a couple of both, Yuuri lost track – before they arrived at the museum. The establishment was nestled inside a shopping complex, conveniently accessible from the tram station, and easily identified with its distinctive yellow signage and burgundy-toned décor. After giving the façade a quick once-over, Yuuri finally noticed the two uniformed employees waiting behind a kiosk and the stanchions that led to them. He began to pull out his wallet, only to have Victor walk right by him and up to the counter. He hurried over, protest at the ready. "I can pay," he said when he saw the other man pull out a credit card. 

Victor waved him off, his grin lighting up his face so much that Yuuri's entire body froze unconsciously. And it was not the first time today that that had happened either; the sheer force of the man's personality and looks was simply breathtaking. "Don't worry about it. It's my way of paying you for keeping me company and from dying of boredom." 

"But –" His argument died on his lips when the employee took the offered card with a polite smile. Grumbling to himself, Yuuri tucked his wallet away. "Next one is on me," he supplied quietly. 

Those startling blue eyes focused in on him with what Yuuri could only term as indulgence. "Sure," Victor said, although the word was spoken in a tone that a parent would've use to placate a child. 

Yuuri pursed his lips, slightly annoyed. He'd just met this man, and somehow, this whole thing felt like some sort of impromptu date, which, despite how comfortable he was in Victor's company, didn't sit very easy with him. Sometimes, the bold and forward nature of foreigners puzzled him. Nonetheless, he followed his companion into the museum once the admission was taken care of, intent on making the most of the paid entry. 

All things considered, Yuuri would be the first to admit he'd lived a pretty sheltered life, his education in America notwithstanding. He was definitely not in the same league as Victor in terms of worldliness from what he'd observed. And so, with this being his first time in a wax museum, he wasn't sure what to expect. But he was surprised that he found the wax sculptures rather interesting. The museum was separated into sections, each representing a different part of pop culture. At first, he moved slowly and cautiously through the entertainment and music displays, tempering down the eerie feeling that the wax figures were tracking his movements with their eyes as if they were real, and then marveling at how closely the statues resembled their living counterparts. By the time they made it to the sports section, however, Yuuri had become more at ease with his surroundings. He was even so bold as to walk right up to some of the wax figures to get a better look at the detailed work put into their clothing and facial features. 

"Yuuri, what do you think?" 

He heard Victor's voice up ahead of him, and so, he moved over to the golf display where a wax replica of Tiger Woods was lining up a shot to a hole. He looked around, searching for his silver-haired companion, but saw no sign of him. Then – 

Yuuri burst out laughing, hard enough that his eyes watered. There, on the fake golf green, squatting down beside the Tiger Woods figure was Victor, stock still, brows drawn together in concentration and a hand outstretched as if giving the sport legend instructions on how to make the putt. Seeing the perfect picture opportunity, he wiped away a stray tear and fumbled his phone out of his pocket. Unfortunately, by the time he'd unlocked his mobile and brought up the camera, Victor had moved. 

"Sorry, no pictures for the paparazzi today," he said lightly as he stood and walked over to join Yuuri, his gaze unwavering as he neared. In fact, Victor seemed so transfixed by him that he became somewhat self-conscious as he lowered his phone. "But," the silver-haired man added, his attention seemingly moving on with great effort to something over Yuuri's shoulder, "I'd be happy to take a picture of you. Come!" 

Before Yuuri could react, Victor grabbed his hand and pulled him toward an adjacent display. The man's grip was warm, solid, the skin soft with a few small calluses in nondescript places, and inexplicably, Yuuri's pulse sped up at the contact. And all too soon, the touch disappeared. 

"Stand right there." 

Yuuri watched, completely clueless, as Victor took a few steps back and pulled his own phone out. "Victor, wha – " 

"Now pose, Yuuri," the silver-haired man instructed in a sing-song voice. 

Yuuri gave the other man a pointed glare before he looked at the wax model beside him: one of an American women's figure skater he vaguely recognized. With a muted sigh of resignation, he turned back to Victor and smiled for the camera. 

"You can do better than that," Victor remarked from behind his phone. "Come on, Yuuri, show me some of that natural grace I know you have." 

Yuuri's cheeks warmed at the other man's words. It had happened several times already today, and Yuuri couldn't figure out why the compliments caused such an extreme reaction in him. "Fine," he said grudgingly, looking away to hide his flushed face. Victor, for reasons unknown, seemed to have a certain effect on him, one in which he had a hard time saying 'no' to. He put his backpack down off on the side and slid out of his jacket. Giving the wax figure a quick top-to-bottom assessment, he stood beside it and tried to best replicate her body position – legs offset with one arm arched out gracefully in front and the other poised above his head. He felt a bit silly posing, but it was the ridiculousness of it that caused a small chuckle to bubble in his chest as he lifted his chin up at an almost arrogant angle. A corner of his mouth lifted up, but he smothered the laugh and gave Victor a playful wink instead. 

He certainly hoped Victor got the shot, especially given that it was his idea to begin with. But the man didn't say anything, still hiding behind his phone as he was, so he counted five whole seconds before he let the pose go. "Did you get it?" he asked as he walked over to grab his bag and coat. 

When Victor didn't respond immediately, Yuuri looked over at his companion. The man obviously hadn't heard his question because he was busily trying to put away his phone. Although, Yuuri observed when the mobile slipped to the floor, this was the first time he'd seen Victor move so clumsily. "Did you get a good shot?" he repeated. 

Victor jerked his head up, his wide-eyed expression of surprise transforming so quickly into a bland smile that Yuuri thought he'd imagined it. "Yes, yes, of course. It was perfect," he said in a rush. Then, he started to walk away. "We should keep going. Lots to see still!" 

That was strange, Yuuri noted as he silently tracked the stiff shoulders and straight back of the other man. Then, sliding the straps of his bag over his shoulders, he rushed to catch up and shrugged off the abrupt departure as a quirk of his new friend. 

(***) 

"Are we almost there?" Yuuri asked as he slipped out of his jacket and stuffed it into his backpack. He kept his pace on par with his companion's, although he felt like a sweaty, limp rag that had just been pulled out of a washing machine whereas Victor looked like some collector's toy that had been unsealed from its mint packaging. So he might've underestimated how hot the city got with the sun and the humidity; how was he supposed to know that he'd be standing beside the most handsome man in existence today and come across as a complete mess in contrast? 

"Should be around the bend. That's what the map says," Victor said breezily. They'd left the museum about a half hour ago in what Yuuri thought was a slightly uncomfortable silence, but that had slowly dissipated when Victor had suggested they trek up to a more isolated lookout on the Peak to avoid the mass of tourists. Yuuri had agreed readily, and whatever awkwardness had settled between them after the picture-taking had become a companionable interchange of heavy breathing and mutual encouragement to reach the top. "You're keeping up pretty nicely. You keep yourself in shape, yeah?" 

Yuuri wiped a bead of sweat that had begun to trickle down the side of his face. "I like to run," he replied sheepishly. "And this incline would be great for hill training." 

"Ah, that explains it." Victor gave him a side glance with a slight smile of approval. 

And if Yuuri wasn't mistaken, he could've sworn he saw a hint of pride in those beautiful blue eyes. Why, he wasn't sure, but it did cause a pleasant, warm flutter in his stomach. "And you're not half bad yourself!" he added quickly, hoping to divert attention away before the silver-haired man noticed the odd feelings show on his face. "You must play some sort of sport. Tennis? Or golf, maybe?" he joked. 

Victor laughed at his comment, and Yuuri found that he drank in that sound like a thirsty man guzzling water. "What makes you say that? Do I look like the country club type?" 

Yuuri shrugged nonchalantly, liking their easy banter. "I don't know. There are calluses on your palms, so it was either you work with your hands, which I doubt because you don't look the type, or you play a sport in your free time." 

"You're a good detective," Victor observed, amusement still evident on his face. "And yes, I do like to … stay active." 

Which would explain why the man looked so damned good, Yuuri silently added. 

They continued to march up the side of the mountain, passing by actual houses with actual driveways, which Yuuri knew was a rarity and likely cost a fortune hereabouts. Eventually, the man-made structures disappeared as they continued along a paved path surrounded by lush, green trees. And, as Victor had promised, after climbing around a really, really long bend, the shrubs and bushes gave way to a grassy clearing with a few benches, a simple pergola, and not another single soul. They walked up to the highest point of the clearing, and stopped. 

"Wow," Yuuri finally breathed out after several minutes of soaking in the view. The tall spires and skyscrapers of Hong Kong Island and the busy ocean traffic of Victoria Harbor lay below them, feats of human engineering and commerce expertly taming the fickleness of nature's mountainous and water-logged challenges. There was a frantic pace to everything down there, from the moving cargo ships in the harbor to the flashing lights and billboards of the city proper, and yet, somehow, up here, everything was quiet, removed, as if they were watching a complex, fabricated world before them from inside a soundproof bubble. It all made Yuuri reflect on where he fit in the mad scheme of things when he returned to it all, of how he was likely just a tiny cog in the grand machine, endlessly spinning and spinning until one day, he would spin no more. It was rather depressing, now that he thought about it. 

"Is everything okay? You look sad." 

Yuuri turned his attention to the man beside him, a little surprised by how perceptive he was. "Y-Yes, I'm fine." 

"Then why do you seem so down all of a sudden? You don't like it here?" That clear, piercing gaze didn't leave him, which made Yuuri feel even more self-conscious than he already was. 

He appreciated the concern, he really did, and he could see and hear the sincerity of it on Victor's face and in his words, but he was taken aback by how much he wanted to confide in a near stranger. Whereas before, he'd only had to focus in on his studies and being a student, his recent graduation meant a whole slew of changes – moving home, reconnecting with his family, figuring out what he wanted to do for the rest of his life – and he didn't take to change particularly well. Still, was that something he wanted to discuss out loud? 

"Yuuri?" 

It took a moment for him to realize that Victor was still waiting for an answer. He gave himself a mental shake. What did he have to lose? So what if he confided in someone he barely knew? It wasn't as he would likely see the man after today anyways. Besides, it might be good for him to share his concerns with someone who was an impartial third party in his life. 

"No, I love it up here. It's beautiful," he finally said. "I'm glad we came." 

"But something is bothering you." 

In the short time since they'd met, Victor had learned to read him well. Yuuri wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "It's just…" he started, his brain search for the right words. "I was thinking about going home, and how everything's changing." 

"Change is good, is it not?" Victor supplied encouragingly. 

"Not for me." Yuuri looked down at the trampled grass beneath his feet, and shuffled a bit. "I don't know if you've noticed but there's a certain limit to what I can take before my anxiety gets the better of me. And with moving home, and helping out with the family business, what if I'm not good enough? What if I can't do what's expected of me? What if I break down and disappoint my parents? I can't bear the idea of letting them down but …" 

His voice trailed off. He wasn't sure if he made sense, but it did feel good just to verbalize the random doubts that had been plaguing him the last few weeks. He tried to tell himself that he didn’t care if Victor saw him in a different light now that he knew his flaws, but so much of him hoped that the other man wouldn't, that he'd accept and wouldn't judge. 

"You do want you can, Yuuri," Victor said quietly after a short pause. "You do what you can, what you are capable of, and you and you alone – not your parents or your friends or even any lucky lover you may have – have the ability to shape your life into what you want it to be. You don't have to please anyone but yourself. And limits …" A corner of Victor's lips curved up into a small, knowing smile. "You know what your limitations are. That's more than many can say. Now, you accept them and work within their boundaries, or you push beyond them, and see what awaits you on the other side. You might be surprised by what you can do." 

Yuuri listened to the other man's words, absorbing them and slightly awed by the wisdom they held. A few minutes passed without either of them speaking, but he never felt the need to fill the silence with anything. Then, he nodded, accepting the advice, if not completely convinced. "Thank you for that, Victor. My own self-doubt was getting the better of me, and I think I needed someone to tell me those words." 

"My pleasure." 

The low, gentle timber of the silver-haired man's words sent a shiver down Yuuri's spine. He didn't want to over-analyze what that sort of reaction meant, so he veered away from it by asking in a more lighthearted tone, "So when did you get so smart?" 

Victor affected an expression of mock hurt, playing along with a hand over his heart. "What? Do I not look smart? I am insulted, Yuuri, insulted!" 

Yuuri couldn't suppress his laughter this time. "That was not my intention," he said, chuckling. "I just meant that you sound wiser than you look." It then occurred to him that he knew next to nothing about Victor, and that didn't seem right, especially when he'd just revealed one of his more guarded secrets. "You must do this for a living," he decided to ask, hoping to glean some personal information from his companion. "A professional advice-giver, or what's the word… therapist?" 

Humor still lingered in Victor's eyes. "Not even close." 

"Then what do you do, Victor Nikiforov? I shared with you so it's only fair you reciprocate." 

The silver-haired man gave him a contemplative look. "I'm a – consultant, an independent contractor of sorts, you could say." 

"That's a fancy title. Is that why you're in Hong Kong? For work? Consulting?" 

Victor made a sound of agreement. "Yes, for work. There was a human resources issue I had to look into." 

"Sounds like fun," Yuuri said with a dash of sarcasm. From what he'd read, human resources usually meant hiring and firing people, and if there'd been an 'issue', as Victor had put it, it must've been the latter. He didn't think he could do it: letting people go from their jobs, taking away their livelihood. He would be a nervous wreck, more so than he already was. He supposed that that really did make Victor a wonder to behold. To still be so cheerful and enthusiastic, even after doing something like that, spoke to his strength of character. 

"It's more exciting than you think," Victor returned smoothly. 

There was a twinkle in the man's eyes that Yuuri couldn't look away from, so he didn't. He met and held the man's gaze, more comfortable than he ever had with someone he'd known for only a day. And yet … yet, it felt so natural. 

They stayed at the lookout for a while, soaking in the sights of a world that looked so far away and exchanging a few comments about their marvelous view. And even though it began to sink in that he was definitely attracted to the man, Yuuri tried to play it off as a passing fancy. So what if Victor looked like a movie star, and had a personality that could melt the coldest of hearts, there was nothing that he, Mr. Plain-and-Simple, could do about it. All he had was Victor's company for the day, and he couldn't – shouldn't – ask for more. 

Yuuri enjoyed their time there, and wished they could've stayed long enough to witness the sunset. Unfortunately, his stomach gave an audible and extremely embarrassing growl after about forty-five minutes, which caused both of them freeze for a moment. 

Yuuri looked up apologetically, but Victor just grinned. "I think it's time we head down and look for some food, don't you?" 

He held up a hand in invitation, and this time, Yuuri smiled in agreement and took it without hesitation. 

(***) 

Yuuri had no idea where they went. But Victor did, and despite logic and common sense dictating that he shouldn't blindly follow someone he'd just met around, he did it anyways. Not because he didn't possess any logic or common sense, but because for some unfathomable reason, he trusted Victor. 

They somehow made their way to dinner at a floating restaurant near Aberdeen, accessible only by boat from a pier off the promenade. The place was busy, loud, and a definite tourist trap, but it was fun in an over-the-top kitschy sort of way, so Yuuri went along with it. After all, he didn't know when he'd be back, so he might as well see whatever he could. The food – typical Cantonese fare – was passable, although personally, he much preferred the dishes from his homeland. 

Once they were both pleasantly full, Victor talked him into taking an evening boat cruise along the harbor. By the time they boarded, the sun was beginning to set, and the city was truly coming to life. Lights – so many brilliant, captivating lights – brightened up the darkening sky, reflecting off the murky waters of the ocean and creating an ephemeral world below its wavering surface. Yuuri stood on the deck, leaning lightly against the metal rail, and watched it all slowly drift by with a contemplative air. It had been a few years since he'd been home, but he vaguely recalled Tokyo at night and the vibrancy that permeated that city too. For the first time in a long while, he was a little homesick. 

"Here." 

Yuuri straightened and looked down at the colorful cocktail that Victor had offered to him. "What is it?" 

A look of chagrin overtook the man's face. "I'm not sure, actually. But it seemed popular at the bar. All the other tourists were ordering it." 

"Victor, thanks, but you've paid for everything already. I can't –" 

"It's all included," Victor cut him off, the twinkle in his eyes coming across as decidedly wicked in the dimming light. "We might as well take advantage of the open bar." 

Yuuri took the offered glass, but not without reservations. He didn't drink often, but when he did, he got easily carried away. And if his thoughts about his silver-haired companion – conscious and otherwise – were any indication, he needed all his faculties in working order. He took a small sip and was pleasantly surprised. It was cold, sweet, fruity, with a subtle aftertaste of something that resembled rum … perfect for a warm night on a boat. He rather liked it. He took another sip. "Thank you." 

"My pleasure," Victor drawled, his voice enveloping Yuuri like silk. 

Yuuri sighed quietly. He could get used to this. Oh, how he could get used to this. The whole day had been enjoyable, surreal, magical even. And now, with the sun setting, it was all about to end. 

"What's wrong?" 

A sad smile played on Yuuri's lips as he swirled his glass around. The ice cubes clinked delicately against the sides. "Nothing really. Just disappointed the day is almost over. I had fun." 

"Well, it's not over yet. We still have some time together right now, do we not?" Victor's expression was indecipherable, but with the multi-colored lights of the harbor playing of the finely sculpted planes and angles of his face, he took on an almost ethereal air. 

Yuuri's breath caught at the sight, and suddenly, his pulse sounded especially loud in his ears. He swallowed, his mouth dry, and when that didn't work to reset his equilibrium, he took a larger drink from his glass and looked back at the passing shoreline. Shit, what was wrong with him? He'd had crushes before, passing infatuations that came and went without much consequence. He had dealt with them handily. Yet, why did this feel so … so different? 

"Hey." 

He turned his head back toward his companion, planning to apologize for ignoring the question, but before he could even open his mouth, Victor had leaned over and claimed his lips. It wasn't hungry, deep, or anything remotely aggressive. It was inviting, coaxing, intoxicating, as if the man was asking permission and merely stating that this … this was what he offered. Yuuri leaned in, drawn by the heady haze that had fallen over him, wanting more. He tasted citrus on Victor's lips and a distinct undertone of something alcoholic as well. Vodka, he thought idly. How apt. 

And all too soon, it ended. Yuuri licked his lips absently, already missing the feel. 

"Sorry, but I've wanted to do that all day," Victor said quietly, his eyes fixed on the path Yuuri's tongue had taken. 

Suddenly, the realization of what had just happened sank in, and heat infused Yuuri's face in a rush. What was that just now? 

"I –" He was at a loss for words. His thoughts were a mess, all jumbled and incoherent. His heart pounded a hundred miles per minute against his chest cavity as he took in Victor's calm expression. How could the man just stand there and look at him like … like that kiss had never happened? Damn, that beautiful, unperturbed face was almost intimidating in its perfection, and Yuuri felt the first tendrils of panic tickle his insides. What was he supposed to do in situations like this? "I – I need another drink," he ended up blurting out. God, he was such an idiot. And before he could witness Victor's reaction, he pushed away from the rail and walked off in search of the bar. 

(***) 

Yuuri jolted up with a sharp intake of breath … and instantly regretted it. With a pained groan, he fell back down, his muddled mind barely registering the fluffy pillow and smooth sheets against his skin. Why did it hurt to exist right now? His brain felt three sizes too big for his skull, his throat and mouth felt like they'd been scraped with sandpaper, and his eyes felt like they were being poked by needles. He must be getting sick. Or maybe he was dying. Yes, he was dying a slow, tortured, and painful death. 

And then, it all came rushing back to him: the coffee, the wax museum, the Peak, the twilight cruise, and – Victor. His eyes popped open, and despite how much the ambient light burned, he forced them to stay open. Shit, where was he? And more importantly, what had happened? The last thing he remembered was ordering another drink from the bar on the boat cruise. After that, everything was a bit of a blur. 

The thought that perhaps it'd all been a dream did sit in the back of his mind. Because, realistically, in what universe would a guy like Victor, with his effortless good looks and charming personality, voluntarily spend a whole day with an awkward mess like him? Given the anxiety he'd had about going home, it made sense that his subconscious would conjure up someone who had every trait he'd ever admired. 

He was still debating the theory when a buzzing from the adjacent nightstand caught his attention. Lazily, he reached out and grabbed his phone. After blinking several times to clear his fuzzy vision, he saw a message from Phichit. 

[Just landed! Waiting to get off plane. Customs and luggage after. Should be at hotel in 1 hour!] 

Yuuri sat up, and almost instantly, regretted it as his whole body, his head especially, protested. "Ow, ow, ow," he grumbled as he massaged his scalp with one hand while typing a response to Phichit with the other. 

"Oh, good, you're up! The shower's free, if you want it." 

Yuuri froze. Then, he looked up from his phone. Then, his jaw dropped. He didn't have his glasses on, so everything was a bit out of focus, but he swore that was a very Victor-shaped blur in front of him at the foot of the bed. With a towel. Around his waist. And nothing else. He dropped a hand and pinched himself on his thigh. Ouch, that hurt! Okay, so this wasn't a dream after all. 

"My flight is in a few hours, so I have to get going, but checkout isn't until noon, so you can take your time," Victor said as he walked over to the sofa in the corner of the room. Without shame, he dropped his towel, and proceeded to put on the clothes that had been draped over the couch's back. Yuuri wasn't sure if he was happy or sad he didn't have his glasses on. 

"Checkout?" he repeated dumbly. He looked around, and realized that the décor, with its clean, contemporary lines and cool, neutral tones did not look like his hotel room. Not only that, but the space was massive, especially by Hong Kong standards. "Wha-? Where are we? This isn't my hotel," he added weakly. 

Victor paused what he was doing, and then chuckled quietly. "No, it's mine. I didn't know where your hotel was so I brought you here instead. You don't remember?" 

Yuuri shook his head. "I-I don't re – what happened last night?" His brain seemed to be working at the speed of cold molasses this morning. Belatedly, he shifted the blankets and confirmed that he was still clothed. That was a good sign … wasn't it? 

"Well, there was lots of drinking, and laughing, and dancing, and singing," Victor explained, amusement evident in his voice. 

"Dancing?" 

"Yes, that started after the champagne." 

Yuuri stared at the other man. "And singing…?" 

"After the tequila shots." 

Yuuri groaned audibly. He ducked his head, and buried it in his hands. Had anyone ever died from embarrassment before? Because if not, he wanted to put in his candidacy to be the first. 

"If it's any consolation, I had a great time yesterday," Victor said. 

Yuuri felt the bed dip, and looked up to see the silver-haired man – fully clothed now, thank goodness – sitting on the end of the bed. "Great time?" His eyes widened and his heartrate spiked at the possible implication. "Did we…?" 

A reassuring and understanding smile appeared on that annoyingly perfect face. "No. As much as I would've loved it, you were too drunk for me to even think about it. I just brought you back here, and the moment you touched the bed, you were asleep. I took the couch." 

"Th-thank you." 

Victor's smile widened. "There's nothing you need to thank me for," he said in a soft tone that caused an odd fluttering in Yuuri's stomach. "I should thank you for a wonderful day yesterday." 

Again, all Yuuri could do was stare at the other man like an idiot. He swallowed, but his mouth was so dry that he ended up causing a small cough instead. 

With a deep breath, Victor pushed off the bed. "You must feel horrible, especially with how much you drank last night. There's a bottle of water on the desk over there, and some aspirin in the bathroom cabinet. Go, take a shower, drink some water, and use those painkillers. I'll order some room service for you on my way out. You'll feel a lot better afterwards." 

Not knowing how to respond to such consideration, Yuuri simply nodded. And with great effort, he slipped out of bed, grabbed the bottle of water, and plodded like an old man toward the door he assumed led into the bathroom. Then, it occurred to him that this would be the last time he would ever see Victor. He stopped. Sadness, unknown in origin, settled heavily in the pit of his stomach. He looked over his shoulder at the other man, unsure how to handle the mix of regret, disappointment, and loss that swirled around inside him. "So, you won't be here when I come out? This is goodbye then?" he asked, his voice coming out at a higher pitch than he'd expected. 

Victor straightened from where he was grabbing the last of his personal items. "Yes, I suppose it is." If Yuuri wasn't mistaken, there was a hint of sadness in the other man's voice as well. "Goodbye, Yuuri," he said after a pause. "Thank you again for yesterday. I enjoyed it very much." 

Yuuri inclined his head in acknowledgement. "Me too," he replied quietly. And with a heavy heart he couldn't explain, he turned and headed into the bathroom. 

(***) 

Victor watched Yuuri close the door behind him with a resounding click. It felt so … so final. Normally, that didn't bother him much. In fact, he was usually quite grateful for it. It kept things clean, tidy. But for several seconds after Yuuri stepped into the bathroom, he actually stood on the spot, a little stunned. 

Why was he so reluctant to leave? To say goodbye? He'd enjoyed their time together yesterday – had been rendered speechless by the charm and the quirks of the other man several times in fact – but that shouldn't have led to this sense of loss, this feeling like he was leaving something important behind. 

His brows furrowed in concentration as he replayed their visit to the museum , their trek up to the Peak, and their escapade on the cruise over in his head. He had tried to keep their interactions casual, but just when he thought he'd succeeded in thinking of Yuuri as a passing diversion, the man would do something – a teasing wink, a small smile, a carefree dance – and he had to do a complete reset. Truth be told, he hadn't been able to tear his eyes away from the other man the whole day. Even when Yuuri had so easily brushed off that inviting kiss, he'd eventually followed the dark-haired man to the bar like a loyal puppy. 

And then, there was the end of the night, when he'd practically dragged Yuuri into this hotel room. The other man hadn't taken more than five seconds before he'd started to lightly snore on the bed. And for an indiscriminate length of time, Victor had simply stood there, watching Yuuri's chest rise up and down. In that completely uneventful moment, when all he heard was the muted intakes of breath, Victor had felt a sort of completeness, of peace, he'd never felt before. It had been the strangest thing. He'd never had the good sense to be scared of anything before, but that feeling, that moment, had aroused a healthy dollop of fear in him like nothing before. Something must be seriously wrong with him. 

A loud buzz from the bed pulled him out of his brooding. Without thinking, he strode over and picked up Yuuri's phone from the pile of blankets and noted the message on the screen. He respected the other man's privacy, and so, didn't pay much mind to the text. What did occur to him was that the phone was still unlocked. 

The rational part of his brain told him he shouldn't do it. His sense of self-preservation screamed at him not to. And yet … yet, he did it anyways. He brought up the keypad on Yuuri's phone, and dialed his own number. 

(***) 

By the time Yuuri stepped out of the bathroom, the room was empty. While the shower he'd taken had cleared his head somewhat and given him a chance to take a step back from yesterday's events, he still harbored mixed emotions. While a part of him was relieved that he didn't have to keep second-guessing Victor's motives for hanging out with him, another part was a bit disheartened at not having the man by his side. 

The smell of food wafted through the room, and almost immediately, Yuuri's stomach growled and his mouth watered. A covered tray sat on the desk, and without hesitation, he made a beeline for it. A note, written in a bold script, sat on top. 

'The room's tab has been taken care of. Enjoy your breakfast. Love, Victor.' 

Yuuri read the note with a sad smile. Then, he neatly folded the piece of hotel stationary up, and tucked it into one of his pockets. He wasn't a sentimental person, but just this once, he wanted to keep a memento of his time with a handsome, thoughtful stranger. After he safely tucked it away, he lifted up the tray and silently thanked Victor for the veritable feast. 

He made short work of western style breakfast. The bacon and eggs didn't stand a chance, and once the blessed grease did its part to fight his hangover, he took his time nibbling on the toast as he gathered the rest of his belongings from the room. After a half hour of checking, and double-checking, and then triple checking that he had rounded up all his stuff, he slung his backpack over his shoulder and left the room. The click of the door closing behind him sounded abnormally loud, as if it was marking the end of a fanciful interlude in his life. Yuuri paused for a brief second in the dimly lit hallway to mark its passing, and prepared himself to resume reality. 

He realized when he stepped into the lobby from the elevator that he had no idea where he was. The grey and white tiles, and chrome accents of the large, vaulted space provided no clues, so he had to make a slight detour by the concierge counter to find a hotel name. When he finally found a placard secured against the marble-tiled wall, he swore silently. 

He recognized the name. He had a rough idea where he was too. There wasn't anything to worry about, he reassured himself. Nothing would come of it. Lowering his head, he made his way to the exit. It took everything he had to walk at a leisurely pace, given the rising panic that was threatening to eat his insides up. 

When he made it past the automatic, glass doors, and out onto the busy sidewalk, he froze. A sleek, black Mercedes sedan, complete with fully tinted windows, was parked right in front of him. A part of Yuuri wanted to believe that the car was waiting for one of the other hotel patrons, but the two men in tidy, black suits and dark sunglasses put that theory to rest. They looked all legitimate and business-like with their starched, white shirts and black ties, but their postures, the way they moved, spoke another truth. Their bearing was universal. Yuuri had seen it countless times growing up. 

"Katsuki-san," one of the men said in accented English. "Mr. Chan requests the pleasure of your company this morning." 

On cue, the other man opened the rear passenger door for him. 

And although the words had been spoken politely, Yuuri knew it was more of a command than an invitation. Before he could second guess his actions, he took a fortifying breath, slipped his bag off his shoulders, and slid obediently onto the smooth leather seats. 

The two men promptly took their spots up front, and they merged into the congested streets within seconds. Yuuri bit his lower lip repeatedly as they made the short trip into the financial district at the heart of the city, the tall buildings looming over him like omniscient sentinels watching him inch toward his doom. He was trying his best to keep the nervousness and the worry at bay, but it looked like his lip was paying the price. 

They pulled up in front of a modern, glass skyscraper after only several minutes. Yuuri stepped out of the car, quietly taking in the contemporary sculpture and impressive fountain in front before he was ushered inside by one of his 'chaperones'. He knew that any resistance on his part would not be wise, and so he followed wordlessly. 

The security guard at the front desk rose to meet them as they approached. Yuuri understood what came next. He handed over his backpack, and pulled out his phone from his jacket pocket. Next, he spread his arms and stood placidly by as the guard frisked him for any other threatening implements. When the guard finished, he gave Yuuri's chaperone a quick nod, which effectively sent them on their way. 

They walked straight past the main bank of elevators, toward what looked like a private one in the back, and before long, Yuuri's ears were popping as they rode the thing up to the top floor. When the doors dinged open, he drew on every ounce of willpower he had not to curl up into a shriveling mess. He didn't know how he did it, but somehow, he managed to square his shoulder, straighten his spine, and walk forward into neatly appointed reception area with his head held high. 

He wasn't surprised to find the whole space empty, except for the young, dainty woman at the main desk. She gave him a welcoming nod, her perfectly lipstick-lined mouth lifting up into a pleasant, if formal, smile. "Katsuki-san, Mr. Chan has been expecting you," she greeted demurely, her accent indicating that she'd likely been educated in England. She gracefully pointed to an adjacent door with a neatly manicured hand. "Please go on in." 

Yuuri inclined his head in thanks, channeling outward every ounce of confidence he could muster. He strode purposefully toward the indicated door, and after giving a quick, silent prayer for strength to whatever deity was listening, let himself in. 

The whole way here, he had been mentally coaching himself to just focus on getting out of this situation – to just have his quick conversation with Mr. Chan, make nice, and then leave – he couldn't help but be distracted by the awe-inspiring view from the floor-to-ceiling windows that encompassed two sides of the office. Man-made buildings, and natural mountainous formations juxtaposed the distant ocean, and Yuuri was briefly reminded of his time on the Peak with Victor, watching this very scene from up on high. For some reason, he felt a rush of warmth wash through his body at the memory, reinforcing his resolve and steeling his conviction. 

"Ah, Katsuki, what a pleasure!" 

Yuuri turned his attention to the approaching man. Looking to be well into his sixties, Mr. Chan had a rather unassuming appearance: his height was average, his frame was slender, and his slicked back hair was graying. But that impression quickly disappeared when they shook hands. It was then that Yuuri saw the deadly cunning behind the wire-framed glasses, and felt the unrelenting strength of the man's grip. There was a quiet ruthlessness about him, a lethalness that simmered dangerously below the deceptively normal façade. This was not a man to cross, and Yuuri could now understand the stories he'd heard of how this man had become the head of the Triad here in Hong Kong. 

"Mr. Chan," he said in greeting. 

"Robert, please," the older man said as he walked back toward his desk and gestured for Yuuri to take one of the seats. 

Yuuri obliged, although his host remained standing. Already, he felt like he was at a disadvantage, having to look up now at the other man. He swallowed nervously. He was so bad at this type of thing. 

_'You do want you can, Yuuri.'_

Victor's voice echoed through his head then, encouraging, fortifying. 

"I wasn't expecting any important visitors this week," Mr. Chan said casually as he clasped his hands behind his back and stared imperiously down at Yuuri. "So imagine my surprise when a security camera in one of my hotels catches the son of one of the highest ranking members of the Yakuza checking in last night!" 

How was he supposed to properly respond to this? Yuuri knew that amongst the members of the underworld, appearances were only skin deep. What one says, no matter how courteous, and what one does, no matter how benign, hid something completely different. But he didn't know how to properly read between the lines like that. Oh, he was so useless and pathetic when it came to this type of business, especially when he was constantly plagued with doubts and uncertainty, which wasn't a good thing since the wrong move or the wrong word meant the difference between life and death. 

_'You know what your limitations are… you accept them and work within their boundaries, or you push beyond them …'_

Victor. Victor had been so confident, so sure of himself. That's who he wanted to be right now. That's who he had to emulate. 

And somehow, that thought gave him comfort. He hardened his expression, his eyes narrowing and his jaw tightening. He stood, and met Mr. Chan's eyes straight on. "I assure you, sir, that this is not an official visit. I wouldn't dare encroach on your territory without your permission if it were," he said stoically, deciding to brush off the older man's superficial request for informality. "I'm just passing through, for pleasure. Some sightseeing, and then I'll be heading home." 

Mr. Chan held his gaze for a moment, as if weighing and assessing the truthfulness of his words, expression unreadable. Yuuri remained still, unflinching and unrelenting. 

And then, "Of course. But what kind of host would I be without officially welcoming you to my city." Mr. Chan smiled, although there was no substance behind it. 

"Of course," Yuuri repeated in the same emotionless tone. His gaze held steady as he pushed his chair away, and backed up a few steps. He wasn't sure if he was making the right moves, but since there hadn't been a gun pulled on him yet, he assumed he hadn't made any wrong ones. "Then if there is nothing else, I'll be on my way." 

"One moment, Katsuki." 

Yuuri froze, his heart beating erratically in his chest even though he managed to maintain his cool exterior. He arched an inquiring eyebrow. "Hmm?" 

"You'll have to let one of my men show you around. Only the best – hospitality for such an honored guest." 

Again, Yuuri knew the politeness masked a completely different meaning behind the words, and this time, he had an idea of what it was. No matter how he answered, he had a feeling that his actions for the rest of his visit here would be monitored, however discreetly. It was just professional courtesy that he was being told this now. As much as he didn't like it, he could live with it, especially if it meant he wasn't starting some inadvertent turf war between the Triad and the Yakuza. He kept his expression neutral, and inclined his head graciously. He could do this, he reminded himself. He could learn to play this game, even if a little clumsily. "You're too kind, Mr. Chan. But I must humbly decline. You see, I'm meeting a school friend soon, and wanted to keep a low profile. You understand how it is." 

The older man likely knew exactly how it was. He wouldn't have gotten to his current position now without knowing. As much as their words were meant to placate, they both inherently understood to not take each other at face value. "Yes, I do," Chan said knowingly. His dark eyes were still searching, ever vigilant for any weakness Yuuri was sloppy enough to reveal. "In that case, I hope you have a pleasant time in my city," he continued. "And of course, if you need anything at all, my resources are at your disposal." 

"Thank you." Yuuri bowed stiffly. Everything inside him screamed at him to be on his way. 

Chan gestured toward the door, and Yuuri gratefully accepted the dismissal. Back straight, he walked out, and consciously made sure that his pace was measured and unhurried. He couldn't ruin all the work he'd done by showing his nervousness now. Without a word, he made his way past Chan's assistant and toward his suited chaperone waiting in the open elevator. The ride down was silent, and unlike the ride up when he'd been pre-occupied with his impending meeting, Yuuri was now keenly aware of the lackey's presence beside him. He'd never been one to carry a weapon – in fact, he hated them – but he saw the necessity of them in the world he'd grown up in, and knowing there was a concealed gun beneath the other man's jacket, he was extra sensitive to the imbalance of power between them. 

They couldn't get to the main floor soon enough, in Yuuri's opinion, so when the doors finally slid open, he headed straight for the security guard station without waiting for his supposed chaperone. His bag and phone were sitting on the counter, so he quickly grabbed them with only a quick nod to the man who'd patted him down earlier. 

He didn't realize he was shaking until he was several steps out of the building, bag slung over his shoulder and phone in hand. He stopped by the fountain, suddenly feeling completely drained of energy. That encounter had taken more out of him than he'd expected. In case anyone was still watching, he made a show of checking his phone, and used the time to re-gather his wits and re-center himself. After a couple of minutes, he decided he should use his phone for real and message Phichit about being late. When he unlocked his phone, however, he noticed that he'd received a couple of texts while he'd been busy with Mr. Chan. 

He didn't recognize the number, but both messages had come from the same person. Curious, he checked. 

[Hi, Yuuri. This is Victor. I stole your number while you were in the bathroom. I had a great time yesterday.] 

The time stamp on the second text showed that it had come in two minutes later, as if the sender had been deciding what to write or whether to send it. 

[I'd like to see you again.] 

Yuuri's hand shook again, but this time, it was for a completely different reason. His skin became hotter, his heart beat louder, and the butterflies in his stomach fluttered faster. He shouldn't respond. It was for the better if he didn't. He'd already had one perfect day to remember, to cherish. He didn't want to ruin the memory by keeping in contact with Victor, and potentially having the man realize what a complete and utter disaster he was, personality-wise and family baggage-wise. 

And yet – 

And yet, his fingers began to type. And a smile began to form. And a warmth began to spread. 

Then, he clicked the send button, and suddenly, he felt lighter, relieved. 

_'…You and you alone … have the ability to shape your life into what you want it to be.'_

Victor had somehow unknowingly helped him survive his recent encounter with one of the most dangerous men in China, if not Asia, and for that, Yuuri would be forever grateful. He smiled down at his phone, and re-read the text he'd just sent, genuinely feeling satisfaction and confidence for the very first time, instead of just faking it all through a false façade. The fateful words stared back. 

[I would like that too.] 

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: It has been almost 10 years since I've visited the wax museum in Hong Kong, so I'm sure the displays have changed since then. But back then, there were wax figures for Tiger Woods and Michelle Kwan, so please humor me and pretend they still exist. :)


End file.
